


Murdering 'Em One By One

by lindsaylohan



Series: Live Or Die [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Bloodplay, Blowjobs, Consensual Violence, Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knifeplay, Knives, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Serial Killers, Sexual Violence, Violence, the zouis lines get a little blurred, very minor mention of necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsaylohan/pseuds/lindsaylohan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis and harry explore their new relationship while louis continues to feed his need to kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murdering 'Em One By One

**Author's Note:**

> I am so beyond grateful for all the feedback I've gotten for this fic. here's the long awaited sequel. there will be a part 3 to finish it off. shoutouts to everyone on twitter, especially jackie (@messiahlouis) who shares my love for knifeplay.  
> follow me on twitter (@astrolougy)!  
> I am attaching a guide to blade types on the end notes just to make things a bit clearer with those.  
> as always, credit to the wonderful lana del rey for the title.

The clip point blade. Sharpest of its time, with a thin, double-edged tip. The early morning sunlight shone on its silver skin as Louis flipped it over and pointed it down, dragging it slightly against the boy's bicep, barely puncturing the pale skin.

The boy whimpered softly as Louis moved to his chest, carefully positioning himself on the boy's thighs. He slowly cut a small incision in the chest, a dark red bubble of blood immediately emerging from the surface.

The boy cried out again, his body trembling and shivering as Louis continued to make incisions along his chest, moving down his torso. Louis pressed his thumbs into the boy's skin, rubbing over the taut muscles of his abdomen.

“Louis,” the boy murmured, “ _ Now _ , please.”

Louis grinned, pressing a kiss to the giant butterfly tattoo before him. “Be patient, Harry.”

Trickles of crimson began to run down the expanse of Harry's chest, arms, stomach, streaking him with careful red lines.

Louis' breath hitched slightly. It was stunning. It was almost art, the way the lines dripped down the sides of Harry's body, enveloping him, wrapping him in little red binds that promised a silent  _ Louis _ .

“Louis, please, I—”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted Harry's pleads.

Louis gritted his teeth. “Not now!”

“Louis, I've got to talk to you,” Zayn's voice came through the door, with a biting edge.

Louis closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. He noticed that in doing this, he had smeared Harry's blood all over his face, which made him glance down at the bed beneath him.

He should really invest in some black sheets.

It looked...well, frankly, it looked as though there had been a very clean small murder on Louis' bed.

The rapping on the door got louder. “ _ Louis _ .”

Louis exhaled loudly, looking apologetically at Harry's pouting face, which looked far too debauched to stop their events at this precise moment. Harry's flushed skin and puffy red lips were difficult to part with. Louis would have much rather added his come to the mix, fusing with the dripping red to create a milky pink combination.

Louis quickly kissed Harry's nose. “Don't come yet.”

He hopped off the bed, thoroughly wiping his face down with the edge of the comforter, and slipped out the door, making sure to firmly close it behind him where Zayn couldn't see the contents of the room.

“Yes?” Louis raised his eyebrows at his roommate expectantly.

The raven-haired boy bit his cheek and squinted at Louis. “I...I don't know if I should be asking you this or not, but  _ this  _ was in the dryer when I went to do my laundry.” He held up a familiar grey T-shirt—well, mostly grey. At least half of the shirt had a mysterious brown stain streaking through it.

The memory of eating out a blood-soaked Harry filled Louis' mind, and he blushed despite himself. He snatched the shirt out of Zayn's hand and looked at his feet. Louis glanced back up at Zayn, who just sighed and shook his head. “One of these days, Louis...” he muttered as he walked away.

Louis exhaled. 'One of these days' sounded much more threatening than it probably was. He simply couldn't risk Zayn finding out; the boy was his best friend, who he trusted more than anyone else in the world, but not enough to tell him his secrets. No one was to know about his hobby (let's face it, it was more of an  _ addiction _ at this point) because the risk of giving his entire self to someone had far heavier cons than pros; namely, getting thrown in prison? Death row? No, thank you. No one, absolutely  _ no _ one was to find out—

Louis heard a soft moan come from the other side of the door.

Well. There's Harry.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ “ You're worthless! You little fucking worthless piece of shit—I didn't raise you like this, you lazy little bitch. You're just like your whore mother; that fucking cunt raised you like this. I didn't do this. I'm a good person, Louis, and  you , you're a fucking piece of trash! You're scum, just like your mother. You understand me, boy?” _

_ The bruise bloomed almost immediately on Louis' skin, his collarbone darkening as he nodded through his sobs. _

_ “ Then say it: I deserve this.” _

_ “ I—I deserve this.” _

_ “ What do you deserve, boy?” _

_ Louis swallowed. _

_ He didn't see the chair coming; it hit him in the chest and he quickly doubled over, dropping to his knees. His vision was swimming—he could barely make out the stained beige carpet on the floor before him where the black shoes slowly stepped over to where he was kneeled. _

_ “ _ This _. You deserve this, right?” _

_ Louis nodded again. One black shoe collided with his palm on the floor, emitting a crushing sound. Louis was ten years old, but he was pretty sure at least one bone broke. _

_ “ I can't hear you.” _

_ “ Yes,” Louis gasped, wincing and clutching his broken hand. _

_ “ I don't want to see you being lazy again. Dishes should be done on time. And clean your room; it's filthy.” _

_ “ Yes, sir.” _

_ “ You want to be a good boy, right Louis?” _

_ “ Yes, sir.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Did you hear about Horan?”

“Hmm?” Louis looked up from his phone, which told him he had no new texts (not that he was waiting) and still had 15 minutes left until his shift ended. His eyes swept around the gas station, which was spotless and as always, void of customers.

Zayn yawned, stretching his arms behind him and leaning on the counter. “That kid? We went to his party last week. Apparently he was like, brutally slaughtered or something.”

Louis felt a rush run through his body, making the hairs on his arms stand up. He laughed. “Really?” The beef jerky container was crooked again. He began to take out each piece and rearrange them.

“Yeah, I think the cops are trying to interview people, but so far no luck. No one's gonna own up to even being at that party. I heard like, one of his roommates did it or something.”

“That's...” Louis' hand stilled on a stick of beef jerky.  _ Harry _ . Would he own up to it? Would he sell Louis out? Louis shook his head. There was something about the lanky boy that made him trust him indefinitely. He  _ wouldn't _ . Louis made a mental note to discuss it with the boy, wondering if he had a plausible alibi yet. Louis put himself in the shoes of a cop and almost laughed at the idea of even questioning Harry. No one in a million years would ever believe Harry was capable of murder, much less anything that brutal.

“I know, it's ridiculous.” Zayn shrugged as Louis lined up the bedazzled name keychains by alphabetical order, making sure each one had the name facing out. “Doubtful he'll be missed honestly, though. He was kind of an asshole.”

Louis' phone buzzed, making him drop the 'Melissa'. He snatched it off the counter. ' _ U off work? wanna come over? _ '  Louis grinned. “My dear Zaynie, you are perfectly correct.”

His roommate rolled his eyes. “You ready to go? I think I got it from here, even though we're clearly  _ super  _ busy.” He pointedly stared at the empty store. “And I think you have better things to be doing right now.” Zayn wiggled his eyebrows lewdly.

Louis kissed his cheek and hung up the dropped keychain. “Ring me up some smokes. I'll pick you up in the morning.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Come in!” Louis heard immediately after he rapped on the front door of the apartment.

He cautiously nudged the door open, and was greeted with the delicious aroma of  _ food _ .

Harry stepped out of the tiny kitchenette, wiping his hands on a cliché 'Kiss The Chef' apron that Louis inwardly rolled his eyes at. “Hope you're hungry, 'cause the enchiladas are almost out of the oven.” He grinned brightly at Louis.

Louis couldn't help but grin back, pecking Harry on the lips and taking a seat at the table. “Why you making enchiladas at midnight?”

Harry slipped off his apron, folding it up and hanging it on the handle of the stove. “Um. Was maybe hoping you'd come over? Wanted to make you dinner.” He attempted to shrug nonchalantly but his blush gave him away. He quickly turned and began opening cabinets to take out plates.

Louis smirked, hopping out of his seat and walking up to Harry, standing so his chest was flush with Harry's muscular back. “Oh yeah?” He pressed his lips softly to Harry's neck. “Wanted to impress me?”

Harry reddened even further, hand shaking where he was reaching for a glass. Louis gently bit down on the skin under Harry's jaw. Harry's subsequent moan was deafened by the sound of the glass breaking as it hit the floor, shattering into pieces.

“Fuck!” Harry muttered. “Step back, don't want you to get hurt.”

Louis stared back at the boy before him and laughed at how red and flustered and fucking  _ precious _ he looked.

Harry squinted at him. “Don't laugh. This is dangerous.”

Louis nodded very seriously, biting his lip to suppress another giggle from escaping. “Where d'you keep your broom, babe?”

“Um. Check that closet?” He pointed in the general direction of a door. “I'm not familiar with Ed's place yet.”

Louis walked over to the closet, effectively finding a broom and dustpan. “Good guess. So this is where you're staying for now since...?” He let Harry mentally fill in the blank: since you can no longer live in your house? Since your roommate was 'brutally slaughtered'? Since I killed the boy who was paying your rent? Since you helped me murder the person providing you with a roof over your head?

“Yep. Ed is really nice.” Harry carefully swept the broken glass into the dustpan that Louis held for him. “He dropped out to write music and stuff but he's got this flat which is super close to school. He was almost evicted last month because he's never here to pay the rent—he's always, like, traveling and couch-hopping and stuff. So he said I can crash here if I pay half.”

Louis opened his mouth to—apologize? Sorry you have to move because I killed someone for being an asshole? Harry didn't seem too bothered. And since when did Louis feel guilty for things, anyway? His eyes zeroed in on the small cut on Harry's forearm that was bleeding from the broken glass.

Harry grinned at him again. “Ready for those enchiladas?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Fuck. 'm so full,” Harry slurred, gripping onto Louis' hips.

Louis bit down on Harry's collarbone. “Those enchiladas were pretty good.”

Harry pinched his hip. “No, you  _ fuck _ .” He squeezed his legs tighter around Louis. “So full of your cock.”

“Oh, that,” Louis giggled into Harry's shoulder.

Harry had insisted to keep the lights on, which Louis didn't understand because logically it would be easier to turn them off if they were going to pass out after fucking anyway. But now he could see why Harry had been so unrelenting: Harry's skin was, for lack of a better word—stunning. Disorientingly gorgeous. Louis could not believe how the little purple, half-healed wounds and Harry's porcelain skin sat next to each other in stark contrast. Some of the cuts had been deep enough that small bruises formed beneath the cuts, further accentuating their dark color.

“Louis, I—” Harry whined as Louis hit a particular spot in the younger boy.

“Yes, babe?”

Harry's breathing was rapid. “Slow...slow down.”

Louis stilled and looked at the boy beneath him expectantly.

“I,” Harry bit his lips and blushed. “D-do you have your...?”

Louis smirked knowingly and pulled out, leaning down to kiss Harry's jaw. “My what?”

“Your,” Harry chased Louis' lips with his own, “ _ knives _ ,” he whispered, planting a kiss square on Louis' lips.

Louis cocked his head, pretending to think. “Hmm...I don't remember. Do I have any reason to bring them with me today?”

Harry whined again, pouting. Louis kissed his cheek.

“Well like, maybe you had something you wanted to do with them?” Harry blushed again.

“Like what?” Louis kissed Harry's chest, wrapping his lips around the left nipple.

“Um,” Harry's chest stilled, shaking slightly. “Like,  _ something _ .”

Louis softly sucked on the nipple, letting go to blow a breath of air on it. “For example?”

Harry shuddered. “Um.” His cock pressed firmly against Louis' stomach, smearing precum on it.

“For. Example?” Louis moved onto Harry's right nipple, gently biting down.

“I,” Harry bucked up again, seeking friction. “Like.” He swallowed. “Like the night with Niall,” Harry whispered.

Louis stilled, clenching his jaw. He lifted his head to look at Harry.

“You could,” Harry mumbled, “like maybe you wanted to do that again?”

Louis peered at the boy beneath him. He leaned down to kiss Harry, parting the boy's soft lips with his tongue. They kissed for a few moments until Louis lifted himself off Harry to wrap a hand around both of their cocks.

“And who,” Louis grunted, “ would I do that to?” His eyes bore into Harry's.

Harry's hand shook as he reached down to interlace his fingers with Louis' around their cocks. He squeezed hard until Louis was almost certain his hand was going to break, or his dick explode.

Harry's eyes were wide as they stared back into Louis'. “ _ Me _ ,” he murmured, effectively sending a flash of cold sweat through Louis' body, causing him to spill over Harry's fist.

  
  
  
  
  
  


This was getting ridiculous. Not only had Louis learned about John Locke in  _ how _ many classes throughout high school and college? But now on top of reading a fucking book ( _ Of the Conduct of Understanding _ ), Louis was assigned to write a 5-page essay summarizing and discussing Locke's views. To make it worse, it wasn't even one of Locke's interesting pieces about consciousness or sense of self—it was about thinking and rationality, two things that which Louis has a perfectly capable understanding, thank you very much.

Louis rolled his eyes at Dr. Payne's incessant stuttering and dipped out for a smoke. He needed a break. He didn't know how much longer he could take of this class. He'd figured it would be an easy A—philosophy came naturally to him because it was literally all just logic and memorizing theories. Besides, it was an introductory class, which means the workload is way lighter since the majority of the students taking it were freshmen. This was a class he was supposed to  _ sleep _ through, not grind his teeth over.

Louis slipped back in the class just as the professor was wrapping up. Dr. Payne's eyes flitted to meet Louis' and he coughed. “Um, yes, so, be ready to discuss the first half of  _ Of the Conduct of Understanding _ by next class, thank you. And um, Mr. Tomlinson, can you, uh, please come see me?”

Louis raised his eyebrow, gathering his books to walk over to the professor's desk as the last of his classmates trickled out the door.

“Hello, um, Mr. Tomlinson, I just, uh—wanted to discuss with you your, um, current...habits and such i-in this class.”

“Yeah?” Louis was bored already.

“Yes, heh, you see...I noticed today especially you left class for, um, a good fifteen minutes, w-which would normally be fine with me, I assure you—we all need to uh, go to the, um, restroom and such. Some days. But, you see—I um, also noticed that. That you were doing this...you have been doing this, uh, multiple times, I think, um, four times this week already? And I um, wanted to discuss that with you.”

Louis almost fell asleep. “Discuss what,” he said flatly.

Dr. Payne flushed and clasped his hands together. Looking down, Louis noticed they were remarkably sweaty. He wondered if the professor often got sweaty in any presence of a human less than five feet away from him or if it was Louis' presence in particular that caused him to become sweaty.

“Y-you. You left class?” Dr. Payne's intonation rose at the end of the statement, making it sound like a question.

“I did,” Louis answered.

His professor coughed. “And, um,” he folded his arms, which were shaking slightly. “W-why was that?”

Louis peered at him. “I was bored.” He stepped closer to Dr. Payne. “Do I make you nervous, Professor?”

Dr. Payne's eyes widened so dramatically that Louis nearly laughed. “Um,” he answered.

Louis tsked. “That's not an answer! Tell me, Professor—what kind of response is 'um'?” He stepped around the desk until he was inches away from Dr. Payne. “I think a  _ proper _ answer to this question is either 'yes' or 'no'. They're not very hard answers. One word answers, Dr. Payne.”

Up close, it was easy to see just how sweaty Dr. Payne had become. His hands were practically dripping, and his forehead was entirely moist. The lines on his forehead were creased with worry, complementing his furrowed eyebrows which were portraying his process in trying to figure out what Louis wanted from him.

“ _ Professor _ ,” Louis put his hands on Dr. Payne's shoulders. “For God's sake, don't be nervous. If it will make you feel better, you can tutor me after school. How's tomorrow sound? Say, 6 o'clock?”

Dr. Payne nodded, his lips still tightly shut in a firm line.

Louis nodded back briskly. “Good. Now, I would have you put your number in my phone, but frankly your hands are disgustingly sweaty, so I will leave mine on this paper right here, okay?” Louis waved an orange sticky note in Dr. Payne's face, as if speaking to a young child.

His professor nodded again.

“You look like you're about to piss yourself, so I'm gonna leave before I'm forced to witness anything further embarrassing. Text me and I'll give you the address. Have a good evening, Professor.” Louis grinned cheerfully and skipped out the door.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Louis?”

The voice seemed fuzzy and far away but it was still familiar. Louis sluggishly opened his eyes. The light seemed to penetrate his very core and he suddenly became terribly aware of the pounding in his head. He closed his eyes again. “Not now, Zayn.”

“Louis, you've been out all afternoon—that's not like you, man.”

Louis opened his eyes again and Zayn slowly came into focus, leaning over Louis where he was evidently passed out on the couch. Zayn smelled like pot and that stupid musky cologne he always wore, something not quite spicy but rather subtle and earthy. He looked worried, his eyebrows drawn together. His deep green sweater looked so comfortable.

Zayn sighed and settled himself into Louis' side, wrapping his arms around the boy.

“Sorry, I probably smell.”

Zayn cuddled even closer into him. “I don't mind.”

Louis closed his eyes. The bright rays of the autumn sun shone in through the dirty semi-white blinds, but they weren't warm. He sighed heavily.

“Lou?”

Louis grunted in response.

“Why were you drinking on a Wednesday afternoon?” Zayn whispered into his neck.

Louis exhaled again. Zayn was usually good with staying out of his emotional business. He played with the loose thread on Zayn's sweater, wrapping it around his forefinger until it turned tight and purple like a blossoming bruise.

“I just needed to feel fuzzy for a while,” Louis muttered finally.

He could feel Zayn's hot breath falter against his skin. “I see.”

“Zayn,” Louis' heart was suddenly pulsing quickly. “Zayn, kiss me,” he mumbled urgently.

The dark-haired boy pulled back. He looked surprised. “But—”

Louis covered Zayn's mouth with his own, and the boy on top of him eagerly pressed back, his fingers tightly curling around Louis' sweat-drenched shirt. Their legs easily slipped between each other's.

He felt too hot, but a chill flushed over him as Zayn's scruffy chin scraped against his neck. Louis felt like he was stuck in a burning building with no way out, yet he felt no desire to run.

Louis knew there was more to him drinking than just wanting to “feel fuzzy”, of course. Harry's face loomed in his thoughts, and the bitter feeling from before returned to Louis—he was a one-man team. He and Harry weren't going to be some bullshit Bonnie-and-Clyde criminal romance. They weren't soulmates. They barely knew each other. For all Louis knew, Harry was some sick fuck who got off to seeing random people die. He was—he was some crazy masochist. Nothing Louis should be involving himself with. He needed to go back to the way things were. He would quietly kill who needed to be killed and go on living the normal life of a twenty one year old boy who occasionally fucks his roommate and best friend.

Then the doorbell rang. The boys froze, looking at each other, then burst into breathless giggles.

Zayn climbed off him, running a hand through his rumpled hair, and buttoned his jeans. Louis conveniently took this time to duck into the bathroom, quickly brushing his teeth and, after smelling his shirt, jumped into the shower. As he toweled off, he heard rapid knocking on the bathroom door.

“Louis, there's a visitor here for you! Says he's got something to  _ teach _ you.”

Louis rolled his eyes at Zayn's unmistakable lewd tone of voice.

He stepped out into the living room, easy grin in hand, where Dr. Payne sat stiffly on his dirty green couch. If Louis' mind wasn't racing a hundred miles per minute, he would have laughed at how predatorily Zayn was eyeing his professor.

“So,  _ Dr. Payne _ , you're Louis' philosophy professor, you say?”

Dr. Payne flushed and nodded briskly, avoiding eye contact.

Zayn sat down next to the professor, leaning back and draping his arms around the head of the couch. “Do you enjoy being a  _ Doctor _ ? Or can I call you by your first name?”

Louis rolled his eyes, stomping into the kitchen to get a much needed glass of water and an Advil. He could barely make out Zayn scaring away the poor bastard by attacking him with flirtatious comments. He bit his lip. He needed to get Zayn out. Liam was  _ his _ , and as much as Zayn wanted to sleep with the stupid man, he had other plans for their new friend. He sighed and walked back out to where Zayn was practically sitting on Dr. Payne's lap.

“ _ Louis _ ,” Zayn grinned vulturously, “you never told me how  _ cute _ your professor Liam here is!”

Louis suppressed another eye roll. “Zayn, babe, Dr. Payne and I are gonna be a  _ little _ busy here now—would you mind leaving us for a few hours?” He smiled sweetly at his roommate, his eyes threatening murder.

“Are you sure about that?” Zayn batted his lashes. “I am quite good at history, you know; Liam and I could  _ both _ teach you.”

Dr. Payne coughed. “Philosophy.”

Zayn nodded knowingly. “Just as well. I know my Voltaire.”

Why was Zayn being so difficult? He was  _ not _ going to reschedule this and  _ actually go through  _ some stupid tutor session that he didn't need. Or worse: have a threesome with his best friend and professor, as Zayn was apparently planning—something he  _ really _ didn't need.

Louis grabbed Zayn's arm and dragged him to his bedroom. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he whispered frantically to his roommate.

Zayn rolled his eyes, grinning. “Come on, Lou. It'll be fun.”

“No,” Louis shook his head. “I am  _ not _ fucking my professor.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows. “So you'll fuck me but you won't fuck some cute nerdy retard? You're cheating on Harry either way—I think it's too late to have some sort of code of morality.”

Louis froze.

_ Code of morality _ .

He'd broken his own rules.

Not that—not that him and Harry even established their relationship in the first place. No. If Louis didn't feel wrong about it, then it didn't count.

Louis shook his head again. “No. It's different.”

Zayn exhaled. “Either way, Lou. I know you weren't gonna fuck him alone. Or get a tutor session with him.” He squinted at his friend. “Philosophy lessons? Really? And he actually believed you?”

Louis bit his cheek. “I just—I was—”

Zayn laughed. “You sound like him now. Relax; I'm not here to sell you out. Go get your stuff. I wanna do this with you for once.”

Louis widened his eyes. Was Zayn really saying what he thought he was saying?

“Just to be clear...” Louis started.

“Yes,” his friend nodded, his hand on the handle of the door. “You think I can't put two and two together? Go get your blades, Lou.”

Louis robotically walked to his room while Zayn went back out to the living room to entertain Dr. Payne.

This was not going according to plan whatsoever. Louis blamed the half a bottle of whiskey he'd down earlier. No, he blamed  _ Harry _ for making his life so suddenly chaotic and forcing him to sort out himself in new and unnecessary ways. He shook his head. Now was not the time to think about Harry. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

He thought he had been so careful but—Zayn. Zayn was so smart and laid back and  forgiving and never prying into Louis' business. Until now.

  
  
  
  
  
  


After playing up some big tale about how the lighting in their apartment wasn't good to study in, Louis, Zayn, and Liam were well on their way to “Starbucks” in two separate cars, so Liam could go back home after their tutor session, of course. Despite the fact that Liam seemed twice as stuttery and nervous than usual, he didn't appear to be suspicious at all. Zayn opted to go in Liam's energy-efficient Hundai with him, “just in case he got lost”. This was possibly one of Louis' most complicated feats yet.

_**Zayn** : told him we're going to our favorite family owned coffee shop by the mountains. made a show of feeling him up a bit. got his phone. park somewhere close so we can take ur car together. let me know when to cut power switch. _

Louis grinned. Zayn was the best thing to ever happen to him.

They drove out to the woods where Louis knew it was safe to take his conquests, Liam's car following his. Thankfully, it was just the right amount of distance out of the city bounds, but not far enough to raise suspicion from his victims. They passed a lone gas station before arriving at the part of the road that was deserted, with just enough trees.

_**Louis** : go. _

On cue, Louis could see in his rear view mirror Liam's car sputter and cough, coming to a full stop behind him. He slowed down, took a deep breath, and got out of his car, making his way toward where Liam was nervously standing.

Louis could feel the buzz in his veins already. He was ready, so ready for this to finally happen. What he'd been fantasizing for months now,  _ finally _ , this dimwit was going to have his last breath at Louis' skilled hands. It made him tingle, and the familiar rush washed over him like an acupuncture session—a thousand needles comfortably sitting in his skin, hitting every nerve just right.

He raised his arms, “What's going on?” Louis placed an expression of confusion on his face.

Zayn shook his head, “I don't know—the car just. Stopped. Broke down somehow. I think maybe your battery needs to be replaced,  _ Dr. Payne _ .”

Liam was red in the face as usual, fumbling around his pant pockets and rummaging through his coat. “I can't—I can't seem to find my phone to call AAA.” He looked at the boys helplessly.

Louis made a show of exhaling loudly and looking at the sky. “Professor, it's already sunset. We might as well just get this over with as soon as we can. It'll be completely dark soon. Let's just take my car and head to the coffee shop, then you can sort out your car problems when we're done.”

“I bet you left your phone at our place,” Zayn added helpfully.

Liam pursed his lips and sighed again, ducking his head to look at his loafers. “I suppose that would be best.”

Louis nodded briskly. “Let me clean out the backseat for you, and you can hop in.”

Louis kept his car exceptionally clean, but he popped the trunk to get out his duffel of aid materials—important items such as duct tape, gloves, cable wire, rope, etc. The basics. He threw the bag in the front seat, beckoning Zayn and Liam to get in the car.

“Louiiiiis, can I drive? You never let me drive,” Zayn whined dramatically.

Louis tossed Zayn his keys and got in the backseat next to his professor.

As they drove, Louis noticed the beads of sweat beginning to form on Liam's face. Soon his gears would start churning and he would be putting everything together. Louis managed to make small talk and even threw in a few attempts at flirting, however, Zayn was able to manage enough from the driver's seat on his own.

It got dark quickly, and Zayn threw the duffel in Louis' direction.

“Now, professor. I know you must find my attitude towards you in class quite frustrating at times, but I must confess—I only act that way because  _ you _ frustrate me.” So far that was not a lie. Louis leaned in closer to Dr. Payne, slipping a palm over his knee.

“Oh?” Liam faltered and met Louis' predatory gaze.

Louis smiled warmly. “Liam. I think you are well aware I don't need any tutoring when it comes to your class.”

His professor swallowed. “I suppose you're right. Y-you are, um. One of the best in the class.”

“That's right, I am.” Louis grinned, slipping his hand higher up Dr. Payne's thigh.

“Oy, am I missing all the action back there?” Zayn called from the front seat.

Louis clapped a hand over his chest. “Oh, we've forgotten all about our dear Zaynie. We can't do that, can we, Professor?”

Dr. Payne coughed. “I-I think we need to be uh, professional here. Boys. W-we—I—”

“Liam, baby,” Louis soothed. He could see Dr. Payne's growing erection. This was too easy. He palmed it without thinking. “I don't see you acting very professional right now, either,” he whispered in his professor's ear, mouth just centimeters from Dr. Payne's face.

His professor was beet red from embarrassment, looking as though he was capable of exploding at any moment. He didn't say anything.

“Was that Zayn? Did gorgeous Zayn get you so hard, Professor?” He unbuttoned Dr. Payne's khakis.

“I—” Dr. Payne made a move to grab Louis' hand, but Louis quickly took his cock out and Dr. Payne rested his hand on top of Louis' instead, his breath hitching.

Sex was the easiest way to lure prey in.

Zayn looked back again. “Oh, Liam, darling, if that's all for me I think I need to be there to enjoy that, hmm? How about we stop for just a minute here and I can join you?”

Dr. Payne's eyes were tightly shut but he nodded, biting his lip.

The car rolled to a stop beneath an oak tree. The moonlight barely shone through the trees, and the backroad they took conveniently had no streetlamps. It was dark.

Perfect.

Zayn opened Dr. Payne's car door and slipped in next to him, so that the professor had a boy on each side.

“Now be a good boy for us, Liam,” Zayn mumbled, leaning in to kiss the professor, wrapping a hand around his cock.

Louis debated on the duct tape. How necessary was it, really? Zayn was clearly enjoying himself, so perhaps just the rope will suffice. Bodies decompose twice as fast in water, and since they've got Liam's car to take care of, the nearby lake was their best bet.

“Liam, I think our Zaynie wants his cock sucked for a bit, what do you think?”

Dr. Payne nodded obediently and fumbled with the buttons on Zayn's jeans. Zayn laughed at his clumsiness, endeared. “I'll help you out. Hands out of the way. Just wanna see your mouth.”

As the professor ducked down, Louis made quick to pull out the rope, gathering Dr. Payne's wrists in his hands and tying them together in an easy but inescapable knot. The professor barely flinched.

Sex was the easiest cover.

Louis took a moment to watch Zayn's face as his eyelashes fluttered in sync with Dr. Payne's head bobbing up and down his cock. Zayn had one hand in the professor's short brown hair, slightly tugging at the strands.

He then turned his gaze to where Liam's hands whitened against the harsh constriction of the rope. It was making him breathe heavy. “Liam, are you married, you naughty boy?” Louis exclaimed, thumb brushing over where Liam had a gold band sitting on his ring finger.

Dr. Payne sputtered, raising his head off Zayn's dick. His face flushed crimson again. “I—”

Louis tapped his chin exaggeratedly. “Now, does your little wife know how well you suck cock?”

The professor hung his head, not meeting Louis' eyes.

“It's a wife isn't it?” Louis guessed. “What's her name, Liam?”

“Sophia,” Dr. Payne mumbled quietly, saliva dripping down his chin. He was ashamed.

Louis gasped loudly. “You're cheating on your nice little Sophia with dear Zaynie here?”

Zayn raised an eyebrow at Louis, but he stayed silent. He didn't have to say anything—his stare called Louis a hypocrite without him having to open his mouth.

Louis glared back.

“Liam, if your Sophia knew about this knife you put in her back, how do you think she'd feel?”

“Um. Bad.”

Louis tsked. “You already started; might as well finish stabbing her in the back.” He nodded at Zayn's still-hard cock.

Liam bit his bottom lip, looking hesitant. “I didn't-I didn't mean to, I—”

Louis shook his head, cutting him off. “Finish.”

Zayn grabbed the back of Liam's neck and pushed him down on his cock again, which Liam dutifully began to suck.

“Lou, I really like him,” Zayn murmured absently.

Louis rolled his eyes, opening his blade case. Which one, which one? “That's great and all, Zayn, but this boy needs to be punished for his immoral actions.”

He decided on the straightback blade, the simplest one.

Louis gripped the handle of the blade. It felt warm and comfortable in his palm. Familiar. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, savoring the exhilaration that builds up inside of him before each kill. He opened his eyes and let the breath out.

Louis' nimble fingers slid up Dr. Payne's spine, exposing his soft skin. The professor lifted his head in accommodation so Louis could slip his sweater off. Dr. Payne had a surprisingly toned back, muscles protruding through his tan skin. The expanse of his back was a canvas, and it was begging Louis to be painted.

Louis' palms were beginning to sweat. Zayn's presence somehow made him itch even more, and the adrenaline seemed to be swallowing him whole. He pressed his left palm into the professor's back, smoothing the skin there until he gripped his waist. Louis raised his other hand and slowly made a thin, long incision just left of Dr. Payne's spine. It was barely deep enough to puncture the skin, but it was just enough to release tiny bubbles of blood that began to seep down his professor's back.

Dr. Payne sputtered again in surprise, but Zayn kept his head firmly in place, gagging the professor on his cock.

Louis adored gravity. He adored this earth and all its laws, because the moment the blood began to flow, he noted the angle of Dr. Payne's body: the cut was made in just the right place where, not only did the blood flow down vertically along his professor's back, but also seeped down horizontally across his waist, the drops falling slowly into Zayn's lap, staining his pale thighs with red.

Suddenly, it was too much. Louis felt like he was suffocating—the sight of blood on skin made him involuntarily picture vivid images of Harry, who so willingly let Louis paint him any way he wanted to. He pictured Harry's face next, eyes pleading with want, with—with  _ gratitude _ .

Louis felt angry.

He put the knife up to Zayn's neck. “ _ Come _ ,” he demanded his roommate, who, almost on command, shut his eyes and released into Dr. Payne's mouth.

Louis was shaking. The skin on his forearms was prickling and he was so  _ mad _ . How dare—how dare he. Harry had no right—Dr. Payne had no right, that stupid faggot of a professor, always mumbling and stuttering all over the place like a fucking coward.

Louis felt confused and he needed to get his head straight immediately.

He wiped the used blade on Dr. Payne's discarded sweater and neatly tucked it away in his case. Zayn didn't seem to take notice of Louis' change in demeanor; he was stroking the professor's hair softly, as if—as if he  _ deserved  _ some sort of  _ praise _ for being the garbage of a human being that he was.

“No!” Louis shouted. He smacked Zayn's hand away. “Help me get him out.”

His roommate glanced at him with wide eyes but followed Louis' demand. They carried the silent professor to a clearing just deep enough in the woods that wouldn't be explored.

Dr. Payne remained curiously quiet as the boys laid him down in the brown grass, which frustrated Louis. Where were his screams, his whimpers? Where were his cries? This was all  _ wrong _ .

Louis kicked the professor for good measure, and the man let out a soft groan, but nothing more. His eyes were closed and he appeared peaceful as he lay on his side with his knees tucked in. His hands were still tied behind his back, and he looked—well, like a victim. But something was still missing. Louis knew that the rocks and twigs that polluted the grass must have been digging into Dr. Payne's open wound, but the professor did not seem phased by this. It irked Louis.

Zayn mumbled something incoherent. “ _ What _ ,” Louis snapped at his friend.

“I think he's in subspace,” Zayn whispered.

Louis rolled his eyes. Just his luck.

He kicked Dr. Payne again, harder. He pressed the heel of his shoe into the professor's exposed stomach, getting dirt all over the skin.

_ This was not the plan . _

Louis felt himself get angrier by the second. There was too much on his mind, and his victim was not cooperating.

He kneeled down next to the professor. “You little fucking bitch,” he whispered. “You're a fucking  _ coward _ . You have no respect for yourself. You let everybody walk all over you. You just want to please everyone.”

Louis examined his blade case. He had an idea. He pulled out the needle-point blade, and extremely tapered, thin blade that had possibly the sharpest tip of all the ones he owned. It could barely be called a knife—it was a weapon, simple as that.

“Now, Liam, dear,” Dr. Payne slowly opened his eyes. He looked disconcerted. His eyebrows were at a straight line, as if he was sleeping. Louis continued, “Liam, I have already taught you what it feels like to be stabbed in the back—what your poor Sophia felt.”

At the mention of his wife's name, Dr. Payne widened his eyes and his lips began to quiver.

Much better.

“Yes, that's right,” Louis exclaimed cheerfully. “But enough about her! Let's focus on  _ you _ .”

Louis trailed the blade along Dr. Payne's jaw, who trembled in response.  So much better.

“You, Dr. Liam Payne. You are a Princeton alumni. You got your goddamn  _ doctorate _ at Princeton. If I was you, I'd be feeling all kinds of prestige. I'd be among the elite.” Louis cocked his head, moving the blade down Dr. Payne's neck and settling it on his chest. “I'm sure you worked your ass off to get into an Ivy League school, and I'm sure you spent plenty of time and grueling effort into getting your degree. In  _ philosophy _ , which is kind of retarded, in my opinion, but I don't judge,” Louis laughed.

Louis savored the moment when the first tear trickled down his victim's cheek. It was delicious, the way the professor's face crumpled and his eyes became slits as he started to sob.

Louis continued moving the blade down Dr. Payne's body. “But  _ you _ , Dr. Liam Payne. You are not only an adulterer but also a person who is apparently incapable of self love. Incapable of self-esteem. Incapable of self- _ worth _ .” Louis sighed deeply.

Louis made a fist with the blade. “You are full—” He let the tip slam into Liam's abdomen.

“Of—”

One in the chest, left pectoral muscle.

“Holes.”

Last one just right of the professor's belly button.

The blood had spurted immediately, splashing up at Louis' chest, soaking his shirt. Only three punctures, yet Dr. Payne was losing blood fast—the second stab wound nearly brushed the coronary artery leading to the heart. Louis needed to be quick.

Not only had these cuts resulted in Louis breathing easier, but the  _ screams _ . “Liam, you're finally showing me that you have a voice. I'm shocked that you don't stutter through your screaming.”

It was so rewarding to hear that Louis decided to forgo the duct tape. He felt like he was finally back on track and the adrenaline coursed through him quickly, giving Louis a feeling of complete and utter empowerment.

“Now, Liam, darling. Tell me what you are. Tell me what you've done in your life to deserve this.”

Dr. Payne screamed again, staring into Louis' eyes helplessly. He couldn't move since his hands were tied, and Louis knew he was getting weaker by the minute due to the loss of blood.

“Liam. You build up all these nice little muscles,” Louis waved his blade just above the professor's six-pack. “Do you do it to make up for the fact that you're  _ weak _ ?”

Dr. Payne silenced. Louis stared at him blankly. “I-I'm not weak,” the professor finally answered.

Louis raised his eyebrows and gasped. “ Zayn . Do you hear the words coming out of this guy's mouth? You gonna fight back, Little Liam? You gonna prove to me you're not weak?”

Louis slammed the blade into Dr. Payne's six-pack. The muscle he hit fluttered and spurted out crimson. It was stunning. The professor was an utter mess—the combination of dirt and grass stains mixed with the pink flesh of the open wounds and of course, the gorgeous red mess of blood.

The professor screamed again, louder than before. “Okay, yes— _ yes _ , I am weak. Please, just please stop, please,” he begged.

Louis laughed triumphantly. “I'm never wrong, you know.” He cracked his neck, and for the first time since the professor was set down in the clearing, he looked at Zayn.

Zayn was—well,  _ hard _ . Again.

Louis almost rolled his eyes but he decided instead to take this opportunity.

“Zayn, babe, you wanna do the honors?”

Zayn finally tore his eyes away from Dr. Payne's dying body and looked at Louis in surprise. He seemed to think it over for a moment before he licked his lips, swallowed, and nodded in response, shuffling closer to the professor's body.

“Liam,” Zayn murmured quietly. His voice was raspy.

Dr. Payne slowly moved his neck to face Zayn. He looked at him almost—reverently.

“Liam,” Zayn repeated. “It really, um. It broke my heart today to find out you were married. I think you and I could've maybe been able to have been something. You might be weak, but you were shy and adorable.”

Louis rolled his eyes, handing his roommate the blade.

Zayn continued, “But the fact of the matter is, you are kind of mean. You broke my heart—” he repeated.

Dr. Payne nodded. “I'm sorry.”

“—And now I'm going to break yours.”

Zayn plunged the blade deep into Dr. Payne's exposed artery, digging deep into the organ.

Liam immediately deflated and Louis could feel his last breath leave him.

The woods were silent, but the air smelled and felt fresher than ever. Louis felt alive and at peace with the world. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

“Lou.”

“Lou, can I—”

Louis opened his eyes. Zayn was still kneeling over the corpse, his fingers tucked into the top of Dr. Payne's khakis. His eyes were pleading.

Louis nodded and sighed, walking to the car. Evidently everyone was into different things.

He tried his best not to think about his favorite canvas of pale skin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the websites I used to research knives. louis owns #1-9 of these blades. good for visualization.  
> http://theknifeconnection.net/learn-about-knives/blade-types.html


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